Integrity Declined
by VolcanicPizza
Summary: Scott Cawthon is dead. Five Nights at Freddy's is forgotten. With the recent advance in artificial intelligence, a group of entrepreneurs decide to make the setting of the games become reality. In time, Freddy Fazbear's Pizza may live up to their promises. But, despite the new owners having only the best of intentions, it may also go down the dark path of its fictional predecessor.


Despite the fact that Scott Cawthon had been dead for a decade and that I had changed the concepts enough that there shouldn't seem to be anything wrong, I was still on edge.

The fact that the bank man was still reviewing the PDF I'd sent him with what appeared to be a suspicious expression didn't help matters. Finally, he looked back at the webcam with a poker face and stated, "What do you intend to do with these animatronics?"

I chose to ignore the fact that he'd already asked me that question twice. "Initially? Place them in the pizzeria which you should have a floor plan of before you and allow them to perform for children. Should that prove successful," I continued, "several sister locations will be opened in surrounding towns to build from that. Then, amalgamating the experience they will gain interacting with humans from that, we shall use that to create new, even more advanced AIs to sell for a consumer market in a variety of roles such as babysitter, house cleaner, security guard, bodyguard, and so on." Despite what Oscar had promised me, buzzwords weren't being very helpful with convincing this man, but I was still dropping a few in just in case. This guy was probably too young to remember the golden age of FNAF, but in hindsight maybe I shouldn't have used the phrase "sister location" just in case.

"So, these animatronics will be called..." He glanced over at the blueprints momentarily before turning back to me. "...Frederick the Bear, Bennie the Bunny, Charlotte the Chicken, Faulkner the Fox, and Betty the Baby?"

"Unless we come up with better names between now and when the restaurant opens, yes." I replied, fighting an urge to fidget and surreptitiously wiping a drop of sweat from my forehead. Of course, I intended to change their names back to what they'd originally been before going into business. Nobody remembered Five Nights at Freddy's anymore, after all, with the only evidence it had ever existed being some YouTube videos (and nobody used YouTube anymore, anyway) and the now-forgotten wiki.

"I see. And how can we be sure our money will have been wisely loaned to you?"

"To begin with, these animatronics will have state-of-the-art artificial intelligence that until now has been restricted to government use. We have finally made the breakthrough that prevented truly perfect AI outside a military sphere, and hope to spark a revolution of sorts in domestic robotics."

The bank representative eyed me cynically. "And what might that be?"

At last, a subject I was truly comfortable with. I leant back with a slight grin, steepling my fingers. "Until now, what stopped sentient robots from being produced was either inferior AI or an incompetent voicebox, usually both. Thanks to rivalry between corporations, this problem was never solved... until now."

That certainly got his attention, and with a startled grunt he peered at me through his camera. "Are you saying what I think you are?"

I nodded. "Each animatronic is equipped with several dictionaries' worth of words and the knowledge of how to use them properly, and their voice synthesizers have been calibrated for tone, inflection, and all the other characteristics making up a believable voice. Furthermore, thanks to an incredibly adaptable AI they will be able to react logically and realistically to any situation which may be thrown at them."

"And yet, you have only procured blueprints. How do I know that you are not building fantastic dreams on the basis of a few sketches?"

I bristled slightly at his calling them "sketches," but nothing more. I needed this loan if our plan was to proceed. "Fair enough. Luckily for you, we had the funds to build a prototype of one of these animatronics in anticipation of potential skepticism." Spinning in my chair, I called into the adjacent room, "Faulkner, could you come here for a moment, please?"

Faulkner- essentially Foxy the Pirate Fox but minus the hook and with a dark gray color scheme nearing black- had been waiting there since this meeting begun, and at the sound of my voice he immediately tore into the room, coming to a complete stop a mere inch behind my chair in utter defiance of momentum. The bank representative flinched despite being in another state and only seeing the animatronic fox through a webcam.

"What is it, sir?" Faulkner bounced joyfully like an eager child, which was more than a little funny considering that he was a two-meter-tall animatronic. "And who's this?" he added, pointing at the computer screen and causing the bank representative to flinch again.

"This is a man from the bank," I explained. "He's trying to decide whether he should give me a loan so we can make you some friends and let you perform."

"Hello, Mr. Bank Guy!" Faulkner waved cheerily at the screen before abruptly turning to me and stage-whispering, "He seems a bit jumpy. Do you think he's alright?"

"Don't worry about him. He just wasn't expecting you is all." Turning back to the computer, I could see in the man's eyes that he still wasn't convinced. "Why don't you talk to him?" I prompted.

With a slight sigh, the bank representative leaned towards the camera again. "What's your name?" he asked Faulkner.

"Faulkner the Fox, of course!" Faulkner grinned patronizingly. "Weren't you listening, silly?"

The representative flushed slightly. "Very well, then. What is the date and time?"

Now he was just being an idiot. Only truly incompetent robots couldn't answer that one. Nevertheless, I nodded slightly to Faulkner, and he dutifully recited, "It's the 13th of July, 2040, and the time is 5:04 PM, or, if you'd prefer military time, it's 1701 hours. These questions are really easy," he complained to me.

At that point, I wished that Scotty had coded better phrasing than _military time_ , because now the bank representative was looking at both of us with a fishy expression. "I want you to tell me all of your functions now, Faulkner, including ones you've been told not to tell anyone."

Faulkner glanced at me. "But I don't have-"

I gestured to the screen. "Humor him." Unlike the animatronics' creators in the original Five Nights at Freddy's, we had no potentially life-threatening programs installed in him, nor would we place any in the others.

Again Faulkner recited, "I can sing, dance, tell jokes, I can serve food, I can help calm agitated children down, I can deal with criminals who might enter-"

"Hold on." interrupted the man, turning to me. "How does it detect criminals?"

"I would prefer if you used the pronoun _he._ " Faulkner said testily before I could answer. "Nevertheless. I'm linked to a criminal database and can scan anyone's face to see if they match up. Failing that, if someone is acting strange around the children or using or threatening to use a weapon, that is a good indicator that they should be detained."

"And how would you do that?"

"I would seize the perpetrator and, if they were identified via facial scan, follow up with another to ensure they are in fact that person. Following that, I would leave a prerecorded message at the police station, send messages to all other animatronics and the staff to be on high alert in case of co-conspirators, empty the criminal's pockets, confiscate all items they were carrying, and take them into the specially-designed back room to detain them until suitable authority figures arrive." Faulkner peered at the representative owlishly. "Which, by the way, Mr. Fritz told you less than ten minutes ago." One of the features Faulkner had been equipped with was incredibly powerful hearing, so of course he'd heard me from one room over.

With an audible sigh, the bank representative leaned on his elbows and pinched his nose.

"Does this do it for you?" I asked rhetorically, hoping to wrap this up soon. The others were waiting for the results.

The representative nodded slowly and reluctantly. "Very well. Barring any conflicts with management, the money should be transferred by tomorrow morning."

I couldn't help a joyful, almost beatific, grin from crossing my face. "Thank you. You shall not regret this loan, I promise you." Snapping my fingers, I terminated the video feed and turned to Faulkner.

"Did I do good?" asked the animatronic fox hesitantly as I stood from my chair.

I finally let out a burst of resounding laughter. "You did excellently, Faulkner. Exceptional performance there." With a quick tap to the chip affixed to my ear, I said clearly, "Call Oscar Agramunt."

He picked up almost immediately. Knowing Oscar, he'd probably been waiting since I started that conversation. "How did it go?" he asked.

"We've got that loan coming to us by tomorrow."

There was silence, and then a scream of joy so loud I had to turn the link's volume down.

"Did you get the building?" I asked.

Oscar sobered immediately. "Sí. It's in pretty bad shape, but that's to be expected for the low price we got it for. Did Faulkner do good?"

"Yes, he did." I replied. "Give my congratulations to Scotty. He really outdid himself with this model."

The Catalan man laughed again. "If I can get his nose out of his computer, sure. He claims he's working on code to make the other's personalities differ, but he's actually just messing around on Tumblr."

"Remind me to reprimand him for using such an archaic website," I joked. "How's he doing otherwise?"

I heard Oscar shrug on the other end. "The usual. You know, acting like it's the 2020s, purposely shunning modern society and fashion for whatever reasons, arguing against hiding assets in offshore accounts in China once we make it big, et cetera. Hey, Scotty!" he called into the distance. "Fritz says g-"

I could hear muffled muttering in the distance and Oscar chuckling. "He says not now, he's updating one of his fanfictions. What kind of dipshit writes fanfiction?"

I chose not to respond to that. "I have to get back to work. See you at the workshop tomorrow, Oscar."

"Got it. I'll see if I can drag Scotty off his outdated machine for a few hours. See you there." The link cut off with a slight click.


End file.
